Where Freedom Lay
by Faulty Paragon
Summary: A chain link fence separates their worlds-his, of destruction and violence, and honour and dreams; hers, of solitude and pity, and hope and warmth. Explosions and gunfire are not the best soundtrack to the finding of one's hope, but sometimes, the fighting all goes away, and all that's left is sky and ocean and sand between your toes, and it's all you really need. ZackxAerith. AU


A/N: An old contest entry of mine I converted for these two. They seemed to fit seamlessly here. Enjoy! RxR :)

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><p><span><strong>Where Freedom Lay<strong>

Another explosion, and then another from the distance. She sighs, not bothering to cover her ears – she has long become accustomed to the telltale sounds of training. Although once upon a time she had flinched every time gunpowder ignited, now, however, it has no effect upon her.

The strap of her backpack chafes her shoulder, constantly being shifted in an attempt to lessen the discomfort caused by the blistering heat and the muggy air. Sweat clings to her like a second skin – it is almost as if she is breathing in water, moving through honey, as she fights her way down the small road from her remedial summer school towards home.

A gentle breeze pulls at her damp hair, cooling her face ever so slightly. She pauses and turns her head slightly, looking towards the source of the wind – the sea, not even three hundred metres off the road, glitters in the blinding sunlight. Had it not been for the unbearable heat and the constant ringing of her ears, then maybe she would have stopped and enjoyed the scenery, the way the grass off the edge of the road rolls into sand down the slope farther away from her right side, and then is encompassed by crystalline blues that melds into the sapphire sky at the horizon effortlessly.

It is beautiful, but it doesn't really strike her anymore. Not with the base.

The telltale screeching of frightened birds being shaken off by a far-off grenade range brings her out of her brief reverie, and she begins forward once more as she shifts her pack for the umpteenth time.

The forest is still dark, dank and filled with earthy smells that one can only associate with pure, untouched nature at its finest. Greenery stretches for miles on either side of her small town, creating nothing but beauty as far the eye could see. In the past, it had been a refuge for those tired of city life, those who want simply to spend their lives enjoying nature and feeling the wind in their hair. She had played under the trees when she was young, running amok through the wild grasses and clambering up the welcoming branches. The wildflowers had thrived, her own miniature garden of lilies and lilacs blooming within the ruins of an old church one could find in the deepest parts of the forest, and she had called it her second home for years.

And then the base had come.

When the construction was first introduced, the townspeople hadn't wanted any part of it. _Anywhere but here, _they protested indignantly. _We came here to live in peace, not provide a training ground for war. _

But the words of few are easily overpowered by those in authority, and before the townspeople knew it, the Shinra Electric Power Company's base had been constructed, and the infantry training had commenced. Now, instead of revelling in the sound of cicadas filling the air and the sweet scents of summer lingering on the breeze, the people were thrust into a realm of nearby artillery fire and explosions day in, day out.

She lets out a barely audible sigh as she approaches the corner of the chain link fence. It is a tall, menacing barrier between her world and the army's training areas – topping off at ten feet with a roll of biting barbed wire, the silver bordering the base exudes a terrifying aura. At times, she can't help but wonder what that fence is for – is it to keep civilians out of the base, or to keep the residents inside when they seek out the simple comforts of the outside world?

She frowns up at the hulking fence disapprovingly. Of all places, if the military had needed an operating and training area, the government shouldn't have chosen her town. It is too beautiful for war to touch it.

But, two years have passed since the original construction was completed, and all she can do is praise the heavens that at least her path takes her along a shorter length of fencing. At least she doesn't have to endure the view of the concrete, sand, tan buildings and ammunition storages for long before the forest swallows up her left side once more and she is able to continue going down that road in peace.

Her limbs ache, the strain from being under the sweltering sun after studying all day making her short of breath and weak of mind. With a groan, she halts and leans her head against the fence, hissing when the metal burns her cheek. Grumbling, she shifts her long mocha hair so that her face will be protected, and continues to rest upon the metal barrier.

She doesn't know how long she sat there, eyes closed wearily and brows furrowed in discomfort from the burn on her cheek. She merely allows herself rest, building up her strength again to continue down the road.

She fingers the flower which rests upon her lap, a smile lighting her features momentarily as the memory of the little girl who had given it to her earlier returns to her mind. It was from the church, the one she used to visit as a little girl – but now, it's too inaccessible for her to reach.

It's sad, really.

She wakes from her reverie with a start. If she doesn't get home soon, her family will worry, after all. They hadn't wanted her to go on her own to remedial school in the first place – if she shows them that she can't be trusted to go there and back in a timely, safe fashion, they just might force her to ride in the car again, like they had right after the accident.

She doesn't want that. She wants _freedom. _

Out of nowhere, a shadow falls over her. Startled into awareness, she leans away from the fence, glancing up at this figure which has blocked out the sun so suddenly.

Through the holes in the fence, a young man dressed in the full navy blue combat training gear and large steel-toed black boots stands, gloved fingers hooked through the fence as he peers down at her diminutive figure. His piercing blue eyes flash in curiosity as he examines her sweat-drenched appearance – the school uniform, the long, shining brown hair matting upon her forehead from the humidity, pink bow holding her braid slowly becoming drenched in sweat, the distrusting green eyes which stare back up at him with contempt and a little bit of sadness.

"You're a soldier." It is a simple statement, true for sure – but while the tone is even, the words are associated with hatred and disgust among the townspeople, and the man's serious gaze hardens ever so slightly, his own frown etching itself even deeper into his youthful face.

She hates the men who have invaded her home to practice bringing destruction to other lands.

Without a word, he reaches over to his hip, pulls out his canteen and a handkerchief, wets the cloth and beckons her closer to the fence.

She shakes her head, snorting as the soldier gestures for her to come closer once more. Yet, she finds herself unconsciously following his instructions, leaning closer to the scalding metal and the figure despite herself.

And, with surprising gentleness from his gloved hands, he holds back her hair with one finger and presses the moist cloth against the burn on her cheek through the fence, looping the remaining cloth around the metal before straightening and walking away.

Her eyes finally peel themselves away from his strong, proud back, removing the handkerchief from the fence. With trembling fingers, she presses the cloth against her cheek, sighing in relief as the cool touch eases the pain of the burn. A musky scent fills her nostrils – the scent of a man, of someone who was worlds away from her.

She chuckles exhaustedly, fanning her face with one hand. What is she talking about? She is already twenty years old herself. How is someone not much older than her 'worlds away'?

_Men _are _worlds away from me. I'll never find one for my own._

The thought is bitter, cold, harsh – but for some reason, with the cloth on her cheek and the soothing scent invading her soul, the sun isn't as unbearable anymore.

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><p>He comes back the next day to the fence, after her classes end.<p>

"Private Fair. Zack Fair," he murmurs gruffly, his taciturn nature evident by his lack of words. Surprisingly, his voice is unexpectedly boyish, light and musical despite his occupation, despite all seriousness displayed.

She nods. "Aerith. Aerith Gainsborough," she mutters, introducing herself just as stiffly before moving closer to the fence and holding out the newly dried and washed cloth he has given her. "Take it."

He shakes his head, disregarding her words. "Aren't you tired, pulling yourself all the way from school to the residential area each day?" He kneels, poking two fingers through the fence to gently touch the rim of the left wheel.

She instinctively brings herself away – when had she gotten that close to the fence, for him to be able to touch it? "None of your concern," she hisses defensively. "Aren't you tired of shooting guns and preparing to kill people each day?"

He smiles gently at her through spiky black, dirt-streaked hair. "If I said yes, what would you do?"

Her arms relax, brows furrowing in slight confusion. "You don't want to be here?"

After a moment's deliberation, he replies, "I'm here to serve my country, not destroy others like you seem to think. I'm here to protect the people I love and make a difference, not start wars – only end them." With a silly grin, he adds, "It was my childhood dream, you know – to be considered a hero."

He wants to save, not hurt. She hasn't thought of it like that.

The calling of a sergeant to return to the mess hall breaks the pair out of their thoughts, and he strides away once more, leaving behind the outstretched handkerchief as an unspoken promise of their meeting the next day.

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><p>She doesn't know why she is so entranced by this soldier. She honestly doesn't know. To her, this private, this Zack Fair, is like the wind coming in unexpectedly and cooling her soul. He is strange, for no other soldier has ever approached her, much less during the course of drills (although he claims their visits to be breaks). Yet, he is always awaiting her the next day.<p>

"You're like a child," he comments, smiling sweetly – for, she finds a few days after their initial encounter that he can in fact smile angelically, which makes his muddied and wearied face seem eons younger. "Innocent."

She giggles at the thought, leaning the back of her head against the fence as she gazes out at the sparkling blue waters beyond. It is a beautiful day, the first one in weeks that isn't terribly warm. She had no school that day, but she had decided to come for a visit anyways, if only to find out what went on in Zack Fair's mind. "How so?" she asks mildly.

Through the corner of her eye, she can see him look down at her small frame, clad in her favourite white dress, a look nothing short of affectionate in his eyes. "You look so… so fragile. Like someone has to hold you and protect you, or you'll break."

Despite the clear warmth in his tone, she instantly bristles and moves away from the fence. "You mean that I'm pathetic," she hisses. "I'm pitiable."

"No!" he cries, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it like that at all!"

She looks down at the beach, shame turning her cheeks a mottled red. "I know I'm useless," she whispers painfully, biting her lips to stop the flow of tears which threatens to follow her words. "Everyone calls me that. No one lets me do anything on my own anymore, since I always need _protection_."

Zack remains silent, for there is nothing to truly say to that. After all, he has just touched a wound too deep for even the gentlest of breezes to hold.

He starts off the conversation by mentioning school – it is strange to see someone of her age going to remedial summer school, after all, when she is supposed to have graduated months before.

"I missed most of my senior year, so I have to attend in order to get my diploma," she admits sadly, eyes misting over in lost memories.

"You're always watching the beach, did you know that?" The man chuckles the words, changing the subject as he leans casually upon the fence, gazing out at the sparkling blue waters. She merely nods, eyes tracing the shape of waves upon the shores wistfully.

"I used to be scared of it, you know."

He tilts his head, skeptical, but allows her to continue, squatting a few times to keep his heartrate up. Their conversation is in the middle of his training day, after all.

Softly, she adds, "It seems so big. And the ocean, it just reflects all of that sky – how easy would it be to get lost in it?"

"You want me to take you down there someday?"

She sighs, shaking her head. "There's no point."

Zack hums in disagreement, "That's not true – after all, we could have a great time by the sea. It's beautiful! Think about it – the sand between your toes, the water splashing everywhere-"

"I wouldn't be able to feel it," she hastily answers, already beginning to continue down the road towards her home in order to escape his worried gaze. "The sand, the water – I'm not allowed to go near them anymore. My parents would never allow it."

He watches her go with concerned eyes, but more than worry, it is sadness that buries itself deep within those astonishingly warm orbs. She fears the sky, the sea, but to him, those represent freedom. And, for although he wants to save others from suffering, it seemed that there is nothing even angels can possibly do to save her.

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><p>News of deployment comes like sudden storms.<p>

"I thought I was content living life as a soldier."

She is too scared to turn her face, to look at the speaker – for, in that voice so broken, so unabashedly full of raw emotion and pain and suffering, she knows that he weeps. And she doesn't want to see him cry.

"Zack-"

"I thought I would be okay living as a soldier. I thought that war was something far off, that I'll never actually be assigned."

She laughs gently, reaching a delicate finger to stroke his cheek through the metal. "You'll come back here someday," she says soothingly, and her eyes betray no doubt, for she believes in those words with all her heart. Of course Zack will return – there is no other explanation for the future. He is a good person, she had decided long before, and good people deserve to never suffer.

He crouches down, and instinctively the pair intertwine their fingers over the metal barrier tenderly, comfortingly. "I always thought I was invincible. I could live forever, as a hero, as long as I knew how to fight." He pauses before looking up into her eyes. His breaths are shaky, just as hers, but he continues onwards. "But after I saw you, I realized how fragile life can be. And I know that there's a chance that I won't come back at the end of this all."

"Zack, what are you saying?" Her lips wobble, and she tightens her grip on his fingers.

"My mentor, the one who trained me – he, he was struck down a few days ago on the field. He always told me to live my life with pride, to embrace my dreams."

He smiles softly, sadly, gesturing her to come closer and placing a soft kiss upon that long, slightly damp hair when she does through one of the holes. "Will you promise me something?"

Mutely, she nods.

"Go down to the beach. It's okay if sand gets stuck in your wheels, or if you can't feel the water – but go down there and breathe in the ocean air for once. It's a taste of freedom, of flight, of everything I've always wanted. Please do it. For me."

He doesn't wait for her reply. Instead, Zack simply walks away, rifle slung over a shoulder as he heads towards the cargo vans – for they are leaving, and he is now Corporal Fair, a full soldier.

She doesn't watch him go. She just rolls away in the wheelchair that has confined her for the last eight months, heading not towards her home, like always, but the crystalline depths that have enticed her since she first lost feeling in her legs. Her soldier, her angel, has asked it of her.

His dream is to be a hero. She hopes that one day, she'll be able to roll to that fence one more time, to tell him he's always been hers.


End file.
